


Feasts and Famines

by merryfortune



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Breastfeeding, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Male Lactation, Mpreg, maid outfits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26431501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryfortune/pseuds/merryfortune
Summary: Every Omega has their quirks and Spectre has a theory about his.
Relationships: Revolver | Kougami Ryouken/Spectre
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Feasts and Famines

Every Omega had their quirks when it came to their specific Omega physiologies. Generally, these traits belonged to collections of greater behaviours linked to their archaic instincts and the like. For some, that meant an extra fertile scent, or heats which were longer or shorter on average for others, as well as a whole host of other possible things which truly made them an individual within the dynamic. 

For Spectre, his quirk as an Omega, was over-lactating. 

As far as such idiosyncrasies went, Spectre had considered himself as getting off scot free as it was hardly inconvenient. For the most part, it just meant sometimes finding odd residue on his shirts. Nothing that wouldn’t come out in the wash so he hardly thought about it. He supposed his other eccentricities more than made up for it.

But that was before he had gotten pregnant. 

Ryoken had been his mate for six years now. For Ryoken, it had been a spur of the moment thing. He was so glad to finally get on with his life that when Spectre awoke from the coma that Ai had put him in, he had rutted and one thing had led to another within the very minutes that Spectre had come to for. Whereas for Spectre, he had been yearning for Ryoken as a mate since childhood; well before either of them had presented as an Alpha and an Omega. So in the midst of all those one things and an another, Spectre had genuinely thought he had died and that’s why all his dreams were coming true. But no, he was alive and that’s why all his dreams were coming through and he couldn’t be more thrilled about it.

But whilst they had solidified their relationship, kits hadn’t really come into the picture until nearly nine months ago. They finally felt they had moved on with their lives. Ryoken had an acceptable day job as security for SOL Tech’s virtual assets and some of their dirty secrets. Spectre had settled greatly as a homemaker, spending every day in domestic bliss, making food, indulging his hobbies, cleaning - that sort of thing. They had friends and connections and felt as though they had normal lives now. 

So, they had come back onto dryland, sold the cruise liner and re-bought Ryoken’s childhood home which had, surprisingly, changed much. He had sold it back to the bank and the bank had sold it to some big dreams renovator and then sold it for a profit and with a little bit of pressure, Ryoken had managed to get his paws on the deed again. But he couldn’t be more thankful for the renovations since it no longer reminded him at all of his dreary and pristine childhood dwellings. No, it was a lot more fun and homey than before with colours on the walls and changes to the layout, even.

What had once been the kitchen had become a sun room and one of the living rooms had become a kitchen with a dining room and it was all good but it seemed that some habits died hard; sometimes forgetting that rooms had changed purposes and the like causing accidentally wandering. But between the two of them, Spectre was the lion’s share of the adjustment issues, Omegas disliked having their nests rearranged without consent, of course, not so much Ryoken who was more adaptable than that. And now, in the midst of what Spectre considered a dire crisis, those adjustment issues of Spectre's had more than flared up.

He trotted about awkwardly clutching himself, specifically his chest which ached and was sore and he bleated out on a hoarse throat, mewling and afraid, tears in his eyes, trying to find Ryoken. When he finally found him in the back room, the sun room, reading a book in the basking light of the afternoon sun, he was distraught and that set Ryoken on edge.

Looking up from his book, Ryoken’s pupils narrowed animalistically when he saw Spectre at the end of the corridor.

“Help…” he bleated, all but sobbing.

Ryoken got to his feet and helped Spectre to the lounge. Every step was painful and slow. But they somehow managed. Spectre shakily sat down. Ryoken sat by him, hands still clumsily on his mate, awkwardly caressing his upper arms. In some vain attempt to comfort Spectre, Ryoken nuzzled him too but it was to little avail.

“What’s the matter, Spectre?” he asked, breathing in his acrid scent of terror.

“I-I’m leaking.” Spectre replied and then he snapped at Ryoken: “Can’t you tell?”

Ryoken whimpered. He wasn’t used to having Spectre bark at him but Spectre was the one to feel worse for it. He quickly kissed Ryoken’s lips, apologetic and whining. He hated raising his voice at Ryoken but he was feeling more than a little frayed lately. 

“I’m sorry.” Ryoken murmured. “How can I help?”

“I don’t know.” Spectre spoke and his voice warbled. 

It was a lie. He did know how Ryoken could help but surely he couldn’t ask such a thing of Ryoken. But Ryoken seemed to have picked up on that. There was a light to his eyes now, pupils fattening once more, which appeared to convey that.

Rather than touching Spectre’s upper arms, he slowly moved in on his chest from the side. Groping his breast and his skin prickled when he realised how wet Spectre was there.

“Is that… all milk?” Ryoken asked, afraid.

“Yes.” Spectre replied, acidic and embarrassed. 

Ryoken gave a tentative squeeze of Spectre’s left breast. He whimpered, feet kicking, and the milk which spurted out was far more immense than Ryoken had expected. He breathed deeply and salivated. Spectre’s scent was sweet with oxytocin and milk.

“Ryoken…” Spectre murmured. 

“You’re all pent up, you’re clearly at your breaking point. Taki said that you shouldn’t even be producing this much milk until after you’ve given birth, let alone just at your full term.” Ryoken murmured as he innocently touched Spectre, trying to ascertain his boundaries by feel.

“I know.” Spectre said. “I can’t control it. A-And now… and now…”

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here for you.” Ryoken murmured, trying to console him, kissing his cheek, nuzzling their faces together.

“Thank you.” Spectre whispered, he felt a little calmer now.

“I’m going to help you release some of your milk, at least until you stop leaking, and then we’ll find the pump. I know we have one in the cupboards, I’m certain. And I’ll help you every step of the way. Just tell me what’s comfortable for you.” Ryoken spoke in a soothing voice.

“Alright…” Spectre’s voice was quiet. His cheeks were so red.

“Just tell me when to stop or if I’m being too forceful.” Ryoken added. “Now, first up, I’m going to open up your blouse.”

Spectre nodded. His heart palpitated and something like arousal bloomed inside of him as Ryoken gently did as he said he would do.

Since becoming pregnant, Spectre had yet to compromise his preferred daily wear with something more casual and relaxed. Having complexes regarding his appearance, Spectre enjoyed having finite control over what he wore, enjoying slacks and waistcoats and the like but none such thing made for good maternity wear so rather than wear anything with a traditional relaxed fit, Spectre had found himself a rather unusual alternative: maid outfits. The shapelessness of the dress made it easy on his hips and baby bump whilst still giving him the feeling of being prim and proper. 

Truly, seeing Spectre mill about the house in such a thing had given Ryoken more than one wet dream. After all, most Alphas did aspire to having a nice little Omega, round with kits, to help clean up after them. But Ryoken was trying to put such sexual fantasies aside; his desire to help Spectre did come from a good and pure place of love in his heart but he still fancied it as a bonus.

He unpicked the buttons which lined Spectre’s blouse, right down to the arc of his baby bump. Spectre shivered as Ryoken pulled apart the fabric gently to reveal his flesh. The blouse’s cottony fabric was well and truly soaked with his excess milk. Spectre shivered again and Ryoken toyed with the lace of the maternity bra that he was wearing.

“It unclasps at the front.” Spectre told him.

Ryoken then easily undid the clasp as well and the moist cups of the bra were pushed aside with the blouse. What was left, was vulnerable looking. Delicious too. Spectre’s breast was wet with all the milk that he was leaking. Streaky and pooling on the flesh, Ryoken fingered along the trails and Spectre shivered at his touch. He cupped Spectre’s breasts.

He massaged Spectre gently, toying with his nipples and Spectre panted. He shifted his legs slightly, he felt incredibly wet between them, going up onto his toe as he felt uncomfortably aroused at having his mate touch him like this. Ryoken, meanwhile, barely seemed to notice as his eyes had fastened in on how Spectre leaked. It was nigh miraculous.

“It would be a waste of milk, don’t you think?” Ryoken murmured, only half his thoughts spoken aloud but perhaps the full of them did need to be.

“Are you-?” Spectre also only half murmured and Ryoken groped him, suddenly sharp and his voice began a different tune. Spectre’s breast spurted milk suddenly, drenching Ryoken’s fingers, nice and warm and wet. “Oh, Ryoken, please. I want you to - I need you to suck me dry, please.” 

He sounded so horny. Ryoken could feel his cock twitch in his lap, far too excited, apparently, as he could even feel his knot begin to swell. 

Ryoken removed his hands from Spectre’s warm breast. He licked his fingers and he was enchanted by the taste. A growl of hunger and lust budded at the back of his throat. He wanted Spectre’s milk just as much as a babe, it appeared.

“I promise, my love.” Ryoken replied, voice dropping low and husky.

Ryoken took a breath and his eyes followed the wondrous curve of Spectre’s engorged belly. It was going to be difficult but it shouldn't be that hard to be respectful of where his kit presently gestated inside of his mate. So, Ryoken slipped from the chaise lounge and got to his knees. Spectre moved his legs, moaning, and Ryoken slotted between them. He got up high on his hackles, placing his hands on Spectre’s belly, fingers raking through the loose skirt of the dress that Spectre wore to his ankles. 

Reaching up, lifting himself slightly without putting pressure on his hands, but he still moved them over the curve of Spectre’s belly, riling both him and his kit up, planting them either side of his thighs on the lounge. Then, and only then, did Ryoken rise and manage to put his face between Spectre’s breast. He kissed and licked at the flesh which dripped with milk. The taste was immaculate and sent Ryoken wild. He licked hungrily at the spilt milk and Spectre suppressed lewd moans for it.

“Which breast is fuller?” Ryoken asked. His voice a ravenous whisper. He salivated.

Spectre hesitated whilst he thought about it. His scent swirled. Aroused, uncomfortable, matronly. He was all those things and more and the pheromones that he produced as a result were bizarrely intoxicating to Ryoken who awaited, patient but predatory.

“My right, I think.” he finally replied.

“Thank you.” Ryoken replied and drooling, he latched his mouth onto Spectre’s right nipple.

His teeth were a little sharper than what Spectre had expected. Ryoken hadn’t meant any offence as he suckled. He lifted a hand and he groped Spectre’s left breast. It still leaked milk but at least the milk produced from Spectre’s left was no longer going to waste. Ryoken sucked it down greedily. 

It was full and creamy. The taste was sweet but not cloyingly so like condensed milk or the like. It had a far more natural taste to it than that. And Ryoken suspected that this was all he was going to dream about for the next few days - possibly weeks or longer. Spectre’s taste was beautiful and Ryoken was becoming obsessed with it as he made himself drink as much as possible, breathing through his nose and listening to how Spectre mewled for him. 

But he eased into it. His scents of discomfort softened and that was a wonderful bliss for Ryoken too. Now he could better focus on those divine pheromones of his which stimulated the cuddle hormone, oxytocin. 

Whilst Ryoken suckled from one breast, he had groped the other but he decided it was time to alternate. His hand was dripping with wasted milk and his Alpha heart couldn’t abide by that so he switched over. Spectre shivered, panted, as Ryoken licked up what leakage could be spared. He suckled from Spectre’s other breast and sighed contentedly as he drank.

“Good boy…” Spectre murmured, awkward and he pet the top of Ryoken’s head. His hair was soft and fluffy.

Ryoken flicked his eyes up and they were maddened and swirling with love and lust. Such emotions look so good in his almost diamond-shaped pupils, on the ice blue of his irises and Spectre squirmed.

Ryoken allowed his mouth to gape, caressing Spectre’s plump nipple with his tongue whilst locking eyes with him and somewhere in such a thing, Ryoken found his voice.

“I love you.” he told Spectre, a little garbled.

Spectre smiled a frazzled smile. He blushed, looked away. “I love you, too.”

Ryoken hummed as he drank more of Spectre’s milk from his breast. Spectre’s heart pounded and he was suddenly looking forward to more rituals of this nature, even if they were going to involve a pump rather than Ryoken’s warm mouth. It seemed that they were nearing the end of such a venture as Spectre’s breasts no longer ached with the burden of so much extra milk.

But he was relieved. A little bit, at least. His breast no longer felt weighty or sore having released all that pent up milk. 

With one final lick for good measure, Ryoken unlatched his mouth from Spectre’s breast. He felt sluggish now but also in an unbelievably good mood. He rose up and returned to where he had seated himself before beside Spectre. He snuggled into Spectre’s side and their hands entwined. Ryoken looked fit to doze on Spectre’s shoulders, he could barely keep his eyes open. And Spectre could barely keep his eyes off Ryoken, he had quite the bulge in his own lap.

“Thank you for the meal.” Ryoken murmured and he managed to tilt his chin up lazily. He leaned in a little and pecked Spectre’s cheek.

Spectre could smell his breath. It was sweet with all that breastmilk that he had indulged in.

“Your welcome.” Spectre softly replied.

“I promise not to make a habit of this.” Ryoken added. “I wouldn’t want our kit to starve because I’m drinking all their milk.”

Spectre laughed but it was a remorseful laugh. “I wouldn’t mind, I think I produce enough.” His words sounded a touch embarrassed. “I have a theory.”

“A theory about what?” Ryoken asked, his eyes curiously looking up to Spectre who seemed happy to stare at his belly.

Spectre caressed his belly and he felt the kit move inside of him. “I think I over-lactate because of the feasts and famines I went through as a kit.”

Ryoken’s eyes widened. He was a little bit alarmed to hear that.

“They say that the amount of time a kit is held and comforted drastically impacts their development. I was barely held at all. And I missed out on a lot of vital nutrients as well having never been breastfed. Perhaps this is my body’s way of making sure such things don’t happen to my kits.” Spectre mumbled. As he spoke, he began to do up the buttons on his blouse.

“Oh, Spectre.” Ryoken murmured.

He sat up more and he kissed Spectre on the mouth. Spectre cooed into the kiss. Enjoying the faint traces of his milk on Ryoken’s puffy lips. He sighed, his breath skittering over Ryoken’s mouth.

“I love you, I know you’re going to be a good father to our kit.” Spectre told him, utterly starstruck in his own voice and in his big, blue eyes as well.

“Thank you, Spectre.” Ryoken replied and he glowed with pride to hear that. 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this ages ago and its a shame because since then, I had a revelation that in "my" Omegaverse, breastfeeding could just be a normal and expected part of any spousal mates' domesticity, no different to other activities like hand holding, scenting, kissing, etc.


End file.
